


with the roar of the fire (my heart goes to my feet)

by tousled



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Elemental Powers Alternate Universe, F/M, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Not Race to the Edge compliant, powers au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 17:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18348083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tousled/pseuds/tousled
Summary: “Thank Thor Tuff had gotten Monstrous Nightmare gel all over his hands before this,” Hiccup breathes. He startles Astrid, lost in her fear, forgetting the others were around. He touches Tuff’s unmarked skin in a way that’s completely dissimilar from Astrid.“Yeah,” Astrid says, looking not at Tuff’s arm but at his face, pink cheeks, wide eyes and feeling much the same. Her heart continues to hammer away in her chest, and she thinks, but it was only on his hands, not his arm, and not on mine.She thinks of the flame licking up her skin and the warmth, like a hot spring instead of searing. She had screamed, but with the worry thick in her chest jumping up out of her throat and not because they were hurt.Astrid accidentally puts her hand in the fire, learns something about herself and falls in love. But maybe not in that order.





	with the roar of the fire (my heart goes to my feet)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soligenas](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=soligenas).
  * Inspired by [To Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035207) by [dendraica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dendraica/pseuds/dendraica). 



> For [soligenas](http://soligenas.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Inspired by [Would That I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fsu5ZZwzFyk) by Hozier. Title from the lyrics. You should definitely listen to it whilst reading. It's, very tuffstrid. The whole Wasteland, Baby! album is. Hozier said tuffstrid rights! 
> 
> Massive, massive shout out to [maedarakat](http://maedarakat.tumblr.com/) for being a sounding board and listening to me go on about this fic for weeks - especially when you know I've got other fics I should be working on and not starting something new! The support is endlessly helpful, and I feel like you did extra time this time around because I was keeping it mostly a secret from Sage so it would be a surprise. 
> 
> This AU is set around the same time as RTTE but it's not compliant - the gang explores new island etc, kinda like RTTE but less. All of that. More of the gang camping and being friends and no bombastic villains who are just So Evil and Dramatic. More character introspection and toads. Also elemental powers. 
> 
> This felt absolutely dreamy and warm milk and honey when I was writing it and I hope it feels as soft reading it. It's definitely a little self indulgent, and silky smooth and I hope it's as rich and inviting as a fire and a cup of hot chocolate. Excuse the purple prose.

They’re three days south of Berk - on an adventure Hiccup’s promised is a journey to end all journeys, the way he usually does - when Astrid looks up over the fire and sees Tuffnut watching her. Their eyes meet over the smoke of the green wood and he hold her gaze, unworried, unrepentant at getting caught.

 

Fishlegs is telling a story, or narrating a fact or something of importance about the day’s scouting but Astrid misses it all. Instead, she takes in the shadows of the fire flickering over Tuff’s face, deep in the hollow of his throat, strands of hair messy over his forehead and pink of his cheeks from sitting too close to the heat. From the angle she’s at it’s like the flames are flicking up his body, like they flick up the wood, consuming, but untouched. She wants to ask something stupid, wants to reach through the flames and touch him, sure for a moment she’ll be fine, that she’s untouchable too.

 

“Astrid, did you get that?” Hiccup asks, leaning over from across Fishlegs and Astrid starts, dropping her rations.

“I’m sorry, I must of dozed off.” Astrid says, bending to pick up her yak jerky. She looks back up, through the fire again, but the moment is broken and Tuff’s talking animatedly to Ruff about a particularly mean lizard they’d found today.

“It was a long day,” Hiccup says, a touch concerned. Astrid waves him off, shrugging apologetically. He looks like he’s going to get up but Astrid shakes her head, putting her rations away.

 

“We could go over it nice and early tomorrow?” Fishlegs suggests. Astrid would put a sheep on it not being particularly important in the scheme of things but Fishlegs is her _friend_. A moment of her time, listening to his passions is a moment well spent. It took a lot of growth to get to this point, and Astrid takes in a breath and lets it out slowly.

“Sounds good ‘Legs, I will be up real early so we could even discuss it as breakfast is being returned?” She proposes and Fishlegs flushes with happiness. He turns to Hiccup to chat further and as Astrid settles down for the night, she glances up at Tuff again through her eyelashes and he’s not looking but he glows orange and yellow.

 

When Snotlout wakes her for her turn at guard duty the fire has burned over, an occasional flicker of yellow against orange coals, smouldering. He’s got a stick that smokes instead of setting fire, poking at the coals and Astrid feels like they’ll all smell like fire for days and weeks to come. When she looks up at him in the glow it’s nothing like the way Tuff seemed to come alive last night.

 

“Anything to report?” Astrid asks, yawning as she stretches. She rolls her shoulders, shaking the motion out along her arms and standing up to wake her legs.

“Weird noises to our left,” Snotlout shrugs, like Hookfang isn’t also awake because they scared him. “A few terrors got into a fight down the beach.”

“You want to fish or should I go?” Astrid shakes out the still asleep parts of her legs, pulling taught against the muscles to feel them. She reaches out to brush a palm against Hookfang’s snout to stroke along his scales.

“Hooky and I can get breakfast.” Snotlout pats his own dragon too, smiling up at him as Hookfang shakes out his own tired muscles and scoops Snotlout up.

 

Astrid stands and watches as they make their way down to the water, sky just bright enough to make out their shape. Either she was tired and Snotlout couldn’t wake her up or he thought she needed more sleep because she should have been up earlier. It’ll be dawn soon, bright rays of sun creeping over the cliff face and waking everyone up for cooked fish and to move on to the next destination on their adventure.

 

Turning to the fire Astrid picks another log to add to the coals, ramping up the fire, and unfortunately the smoke. She coughs, waving a hand in front of her face, cursing whoever picked these logs for their terrible log choosing skills. Someone will have to go over green wood vs good burning wood again. It bothers none of her sleeping friends, nor dragons and Astrid doesn’t know what that says about them, thinks if their homes go up in flames maybe they’ll all go up with it, and then she puts a lid on that train of thought.

 

She’s had enough of burns to last a lifetime; one of fighting dragons and one of living alongside them, and she hopes to never see another.

 

“Hope this is enough?” Snotlout calls, not looking soaked as he often does when fishing with Hookfang. His arms are full of fish, fresh but no longer flipping and flopping around. Astrid steps forward to help.

“You eat with Jorgensen eyes,” Astrid says. These waters are teeming with fish, enough doesn’t matter when you’ve got dragon fishermen and untouched waters.

“You look at goods with a Hofferson mindset,” Snotlout replies, not unkindly, and it makes Astrid think of Uncle Finn. She thinks of being taught to count coins and of the Flightmare and Uncle Finn’s broken heart.

 

She thinks she was too like him to be a Hofferson in any other way. She thinks about her mama making her clothes and teaching her to sow in the bird skulls and being warm in front of the fire, safe in its grate and not burning down the house. She’s not a trader, and she’s not a maker, but she’s always been a defender. She looks over at their friends, snoozing safe next to their dragons, warmed by a tamed fire.

 

“Go to sleep ‘Lout, I will save enough fish for you.” She says. Snotlout smiles, head tilted and doesn’t argue, letting Astrid be in charge of the fish. She uses the smoking stick to poke them around, covering them with coals and breaking up the new log best as she can.

“You’re okay sometimes Hofferson,” Snotlout says, sleepy and what he means is something like _I am glad we’re friends Astrid_ and Astrid is glad they’re friends too.

 

She sits and pokes the fire, smoke sending off signals to anyone who dares to follow them. She remembers hauling buckets of water, sweat on her brow as she attempts to put out the whole of Berk and she thinks about how the role of fire has changed in their lives. She sits and thinks and pokes until the others start to wake up, little groans of annoyance and snuffling as the dragons get up and stretch their wings.

 

Astrid is watching as Meatlug does little jumping hovering movements, stretching her wings like Astrid had stretched her arms when she feels eyes on her. Looking up through the wafts smoke she gets the distinct impression of Tuff’s pursed mouth and raised brow. The wind blows the smoke back in Astrid’s direction for a moment and she closes her eyes, tilting her face away. A moment later she can look back over without her eyes stinging.

 

“You alright Tuff?” She calls, not loud enough to wake anyone, only brave enough to ask when no one else is listening. She wants to ask a great many things but the words get stuck in her throat anyway.

“Yeah, why?” He purses his lips even more, leaning forward precariously.

“Last night you were a bit off, is all.” She explains even if he didn’t feel _off_ so much as Astrid did. Not really off, but maybe more than Astrid can explain. Maybe Astrid was seeing things, maybe her imagination was running wild with her tiredness.

 

“This lizard bit me yesterday.” Tuff says, and Astrid wants to laugh. She remembers, the wound and the lizard hanging on and how he didn’t want anyone to hurt it. “It was probably like, a foot and a half long -“ it was ten centimetres at best “- and tore a chunk out of my arm and probably infected me with some kind of poisonous venom. Or just like, regular venom because all venom is poisonous you know? Venon of some sort because I was feeling faint and -“

 

“You were looking at me,” Astrid interrupts, not meaning to and Tuff looks at her again, same expression on his face. “Last night, you were staring.”

“You’re nice to look at,” he says, truthfully, disarmingly.

 

Astrid doesn’t know how to reply, spluttering and confused and cheeks red like she’s staring into the fire again. She looks away, tucking herself sideways and lets the conversation drop. Tuff doesn’t add anything more and Astrid sneaks a glance. She thinks _you’re nice to look at too_ and wants to say it to make him feel as warm as she does.

 

Fishlegs takes that moment to snore very loudly and startles himself awake.

 

“Oh, is it breakfast time?” He asks, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking around blearily.

“Not quite,” Astrid looks down at the fish in the fire, poking at the edge. Nevertheless the magic words have been said the others are waking too, moaning and stretching and looking around for their dragons.

 

When the first of the fish is done Astrid hands it out in portions, the smell wafting into the breeze like the smoke calling their dragons back. Stormfly curls up into her side, begging for scraps and she gives most of her first bit to her, stroking under Stormfly’s chin and listening to Fishlegs talk.

 

He talks of the flora of the island, and its significance, of the lizard species the twins had found, of the slightly different hunting behaviour of the local of terrible terrors. Hiccup pipes up every now and then, adding to descriptions and explaining concepts Astrid doesn’t understand. They speak of interconnectedness, and habitats and how what they learn will help with inventing and Astrid only looks over once at Tuff. He’s not looking, caught up in Snotlout’s story of the weird noises and Ruff’s heckling. She thinks of interconnectedness and watches the coals go out.

 

They spend another day on the island, looking in streams and watching dragons hunt and taking catalogues of plant life. Astrid finds the highest point and watches out over the valley, joined by Hiccup half an hour later as he takes measurements and maps the island. She looks at the careful way he draws the mountains and the hills, noting change of habitat for Fishlegs to fill in later. The twins are writing a guide book of all the islands, and as much as Hiccup rolls his eyes over it he values their observations. Even Snotlout’s blasé comments bring forth ideas and point out things the rest of the gang missed. Together, they’re exploring the world beyond boats and in years and years to come Berkians will look at their maps and dream.

 

She wonders what her eyes see that is valuable to this mission and as she gazes over the valley her mind just picks up points of defence. The narrowing of one end of the valley would be a good space to force the opposition into a smaller space, several peaks good for dragons to be back up. Fire would burn through the forest like it was tinder. Years and years and she still thinks of destruction, of fighting. She thinks of the Berk Guard at home, and of how her moving on was just to a different enemy.

 

“Astrid, can you hold the edge down for me?” Hiccup asks, gesturing with an elbow to the side of his entire archipelago map. She reaches out and smoothes it down, holding the parchment flat.

“You finished drawing already?” Astrid looks over to where he’s applying night fury salvia to the underside of the new piece of parchment.

“Toothless and I did the shape and major points yesterday,” Hiccup shrugs, holding the parchment down and turns to Toothless when he nudges at Hiccup’s side. He can’t give Toothless the scratch he so desperately wants so after a moment Toothless provides Hiccup with plenty more salvia for sticking more than just parchment together.  “Aw! You know that doesn’t wash off!”

 

Astrid looks at their new island on the map, and then out to the horizon. There’s the shape of something rising up out of the sea far out, another island to explore, another memory to make. Perhaps tomorrow they’ll fly over there and start again, learn another new place, start another fire.

 

She and Snotlout organise lunch like they organised breakfast together. Fishlegs is pressing plants, Hiccup caught up in his map and the twins are brainstorming descriptive words for the weird patterns they found in the northern rock face. One of these days the two of them should just assign themselves fully as the cooks, get everyone up in arms. The twin’s salt crusted cod was clearly a ploy to not have the responsibility anymore.

 

Hookfang helps halfheartedly with the fishing until Snotlout’s somewhat satisfied and he sneaks off to go play with Stormfly in the underbrush. Astrid collects wood and a couple of rabbits snared in traps she’d put out when Hiccup had announced another day on this island. Snotlout doesn’t look when when she prepares them, stoking the fire instead and haphazardly making more coals to roast the fish in. A knife in her hand, and back against the edge of a cliff Astrid feels at peace in way she thinks maybe Hiccup does sketching out the world in front of him, the peace Fishlegs finds taking plant samples and writing up identifications.

 

“I was training the Berk Guard, before we left.” Astrid says, looking at the sparks of fire as Snotlout shoves the poking stick into the wood. It doesn’t smoke like last night because Astrid doesn’t use green wood like she’s sending a message to the entire island. “Weren’t you training in the forge?”

“What’s that supposed to mean Hofferson?” Snotlout asks, daring Astrid to continue. His voice would sound serious if his mouth wasn’t threatening to fall into a smile any second now, stabbing ineffectively at the fire again.

“Nothing,” She says, “it’s just, someone’s terrible at stoking a fire is all.”

 

She wonders if Snotlout feels the same kind of nostalgia she does, wonders if he asks where he fits in this world now too. She imagines him in a yak skin apron with a hammer standing next to Gobber at the forge, and has trouble with it. She doesn’t visit, didn’t when Hiccup spent all his time there either, and maybe she should.

 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a _professional_ fire stoker.” Snotlout starts but he is quickly interrupted by the sound of pounding feet. Barf and Belch appear in the next second, looking like they’ve flown across the island several hundred times.

“Hooky!” Tuff yells excitedly, rounding the corner and barrelling straight into where Hookfang is now grooming, Stormfly napping nearby.

“We found these sweet berries,” Ruff says by way of explanation, and her hand is smeared red but she hasn’t brought any back. “We ate them all.” She grins. “What’s for lunch?”

 

“Fish.” Astrid says. Snotlout snorts at Ruff’s exaggerated eye roll. “We could have had berries if you brought some back.”

“Blame Tuff,” Ruff shrugs, flicking her head back to where Tuff is crooning at Hookfang and patting him, hands undoubtedly getting covered in gel from Hookfang’s grooming. He definitely looks like he’s had far too much sugar.

“Hiccup and Fishlegs better be back soon or I’m going to eat their share of the rabbit.” Snotlout says, pushing the coals around one of the further away fish.

 

They aren’t far away, chatting happily with arms full of twigs. It looks like kindling, but they’ve all been on enough adventures of a lifetime that they know it’s plant samples to take back and record. Fishlegs is just putting them, carefully labelled, into a rucksack when Tuff joins everyone properly, stepping just a tad too close to the fire for Astrid to be comfortable. She sees the flames reflected in his eyes and she takes one step closer, something thrumming in her veins

 

“I’m hungry,” Tuff says like he hasn’t just eaten several handfuls of berries and reaches down into the fire to pick up some fish.

 

Everything in Astrid screams, warning bells buzzing through every single one of her atoms. All she can hear as she darts forward is the thump of her own heartbeat in her ears. She feels choked, lungs full of smoke and anxiety as she grabs at Tuff’s arm, yanking him back. The fire licks at her skin, she feels it skittering over her, warm like someone’s breath. Tuff’s arm is hot to the touch under her hand and the both of them tumble to the side from Astrid’s momentum.

 

When Astrid removes her hand the skin underneath is silky smooth and unblemished. She strokes it, not believing her eyes. Her heart stays in her throat, choking her up, beating too fast.

 

“Thank Thor Tuff had gotten Monstrous Nightmare gel all over his hands before this,” Hiccup breathes. He startles Astrid, lost in her fear, forgetting the others were around. He touches Tuff’s unmarked skin in a way that’s completely dissimilar from Astrid.

“Yeah,” Astrid says, looking not at Tuff’s arm but at his face, pink cheeks, wide eyes and feeling much the same. Her heart continues to hammer away in her chest, and she thinks, _but it was only on his hands, not his arm, and not on mine_.

 

She thinks of the flame licking up her skin and the warmth, like a hot spring instead of searing. She had screamed, but with the worry thick in her chest jumping up out of her throat and not because they were hurt.

 

“I’m fine A,” Tuff says. He reaches out and lays his hand over her’s. She knows. She curls her hand around to link her fingers through his. With her other hand she punches him, hard, and right into the meat of his shoulder.

“Don’t scare me again, asshole.” She says, choking on a laugh, choking on a sob. Tuff squeezes her hand, but lets go to rub at where she’d punched him a minute later.

 

“Lunch is actually ready.” Snotlout interrupts, not completely unkindly and Astrid lets the moment break, looking over at him. Tuff doesn’t move his arm from where Astrid’s resting.

“Sounds good.” She says, voice steadier than she feels and she pushes herself up to let Ruff have the space. Barf and Belch join her, a head either side of Tuff’s body, nosing into his shoulders, under his arm, purring quietly.

“Idiot.” She chastises, shaking her head.

 

They eat the cooked fish for lunch, rattled enough that even Fishlegs’ usual conversation about what he’s found is stilted. He flounders under the silence, unsure of how to proceed and Hiccup lays a hand on his arm like Astrid did to Tuff. _Interconnectedness_ , Astrid thinks and asks about the palm seeds he’d been describing extensively under Hiccup’s grateful smile.

 

They stay close, even though Tuff’s thoroughly over the whole event once his stomach is full. The jut of Ruff’s jaw expresses her opinion. Something about it is performative, something right on the tip of Astrid’s tongue that’s wrong but she lets it lie. She thinks of the wood she’s poured sea water on after they’d finished lunch, thinks of the fire flickering up over them before. She looks at her own arm, at Tuff’s, she thinks of the flames flickering at them like their limbs were logs. Tuff is not surprised, she looks at him and feels the fire deep in the pit of her stomach, in the ends of her fingers and toes, in the beat of her heart.

 

“I think this is it?” Fishlegs offers, looking back the lot of them, and carefully putting a cutting into Meatlug’s pannier. She’s so patient, happily preening under the attention she receives for it. “I’m done with my collecting, is everyone else ready to move on?” The response is positive; there’s only so many times you can watch the pounce attack of a terrible terror.

“We could begin the journey back to Berk?” Hiccup suggests, careful and kind, even though the last island they were at is nearly a day’s flight away.

“You’re joking.” Snotlout replies, hand on a hip. “We’d be flying half the night if we start now.”

 

“One more island,” Astrid suggests, “it’s closer, we’ll be somewhere new and won’t waste the rest of the afternoon. We still have room for samples in our bags too. And if there’s something too dangerous on the next island we’ve got this one to come back to.”

 

“That’s a plan,” Hiccup says, the judging _are you sure?_ very clear on the end of it even though it’s not said. Astrid survived a fire, she can survive anything probably.

“Perfect!” Tuff calls from atop Barf and Belch, Ruff next to him. “we’ve practically filled up a book on this place because our publisher is expecting more content. So pushy, aren’t they?”

“Publisher?” Fishlegs asks the rest of them. Astrid shrugs and watches the confused expressions on her friends’ faces too. Ruff nods like she’s following the train of thought and that’s what matters.

 

It the end it takes just under three hours to fly to the next island in the chain, bolstered by updrafts of air for the dragons to rest in. Stormfly unfolds her wings, stretched out straight and shifting in micromovements that seem primal and unthought of. Astrid faces into the wind, hands on Stormfly’s neck, soaking up the warmth of the magnesium fire burning deep inside, feeling like maybe she’s an echo of that too. When they arrive, the both of them take off on a scouting lap, the rest of the gang following at a more leisurely pace.

 

There’s a large untouched sand patch on the southern beach, not even a footprint of a bird or the scurry of a crab and Astrid signals for Stormfly to slow down. Hiccup catches up easily, and follows Astrid’s hand signals to get a closer look and then signs himself to the gang to not land there. It’s fifty/fifty if he’ll be listened to, so Astrid doesn’t bother to wait and see if it’s sunk in, continuing her scouting. Together they circle the island several times, picking up new pieces of information each pass. Fishlegs shouts out habitat types, picking up a previous nesting spot of some unknown dragon they should steer clear of, Hiccup noting dragon types down alongside him. They have their own hand signals Astrid doesn’t recognise, and she would feel left out if she wasn’t sure it’s simply discussing the trees below them. Snotlout has no qualms complaining, yelling useless facts every time he doesn’t understand what they’re saying to one another. The twins are heads together, drafting the next chapter of their travel guide and it leaves Astrid to mark out the defensive spots in her mind. There’s a sheer cliff face she turns them away from, not wanting to get backed into it without a dragon, and some very open, hard to defend spaces that simply aren’t good for a rest. Most of the beaches have bare spaces, so it’s probably out of the question to camp there without someone wandering off in the night to pee and falling down a sand wraith burrow.

 

“Here’s a decent camp,” Astrid yells back to everyone, voice snatched up by the wind. She points downwards to a small clearing with plenty of wooded and mountainous cover. There’s a stream not too far away, and by the looks of it no dragon’s lair.

“Sounds good,” Hiccup yells back, apparently the only one who heard her despite being almost the furthest away. He makes the same hand motion and it has about the same effect Astrid’s had. No one listens, and instead of feeling annoyed or angry, Astrid finds herself inexplicably fond.

“I’m heading down to set up camp,” Astrid says, mostly to herself. She directs Stormfly to head down to land. “Enjoy the rest of your afternoons.”

Stormfly lands soft as a feather and Astrid shifts straight off, vaulting to the ground. Easily she reaches up and grabs the panniers against Stormfly’s side and lifts them off. Next, Astrid pulls off her saddle and gives Stormfly several long strokes down the line of her back. Stormfly preens, nudging at Astrid to continue the rub down. Several moments later there’s the gentle thuds of the rest of the gang landing also. Astrid turns, rolling her eyes as she sees everyone settling down too.

 

“I did say I’d set up camp.” She offers, and swallows down a comment about how it seems that’s all she’s good for. She curls in on herself for a second, turning back to her bags. There’s leftover rabbit and a pot somewhere. “You all can use the rest of the sunlight to make explore some more. I think this spot is fine, but if you could look for replacements just in case, that would be good too.”

“Aw,” Snotlout coos, condescending, “you’re basically our camp mum. It’s adorable of you Hofferson, I hope you’re going to tuck us all in.” Astrid nearly throws her satchel at him.

“Don’t be stupid ‘Lout,” Tuff replies immediately, “Fishlegs is camp mum, Hiccup is camp dad slash chief-in-training. He can’t even control five of his friends so there’s still a lot of training to do. Maybe we could set up a course?”

 

“Three tiered,” Ruff joins in, already lost in the tangent. “One level focuses on physical training, another on strategy and the last is just timing Hiccup to see how long he can stand to listen to Snotlout.”

“Hey!” Snotlout yelps, the twins both sniggering to each other. When he makes a faint towards them, Barf and Belch takes off, a clumsy turn half on the ground, half in the air, the twins cackling. With a harrumph Snotlout and Hookfang take off after them.

 

“That truly would prepare you for chief hood,” Fishlegs says into the moment of silence left behind. It’s half a joke. Astrid pulls out the pot she was looking for.

“They say it like that test doesn’t already happen a near day basis.” Hiccup replies and then smiles lopsidedly at the two of them left. Astrid ignores it, marking out a space for a campfire, but Fishlegs seems caught up in it. “We’ll help collect some wood Astrid, we can do studies alongside that.”

“Thanks,” Astrid can’t help a conspiracal smile. “camp dad and mum.”

 

“Hey!” Both Fishlegs and Hiccup squawk, sounding so like Snotlout did moments before Astrid laughs. They both seem to realise it at the same moment and fall into awkward laughter. It doesn’t take long to collect a sizeable amount of fallen, dry logs. The forest is full of fallen trees and new growth that stinks of Timberjack activity at some point. It’s written down and Astrid rechecks their landing space but there’s no sign of one, even in recent history, so they consider it safe. She builds a stone wall to enclose the fire, digging out a pit to have a pile of sand nearby.

 

Once there’s a pile that’ll last at least two nights Hiccup and Fishlegs take their leave, talking about this peculiar little flower they had seen whilst gathering. Although Astrid had enjoyed their company and their thoughts on the local flora, the chatter had been setting her teeth on and edge she sinks into the calm of the forest noises around her, working steadily. She looks at her fire pit, wood piled strategically and thinks about lunch on the last island and her hand in the fire.

 

“Stormfly,” she calls, clicking her fingers together, “come here girl.”

 

Stormfly trots over from where she was investigating the edge of a burrow of some animal they haven’t seen yet. Astrid’s hoping for more rabbits, but something else of equal size and edible would be fine. There’s enough left in Astrid’s pack for half a meal, and some cured yak steaks they haven’t yet touched but someone will need to go fishing again or foraging soon.

 

“Light the fire for me girl,” Astrid instructs, rubbing a hand over Stormfly’s chin appreciatively. Whether or not she truly understands the words, a pile of timber is too much temptation and Stormfly is setting fire to it before Astrid has even finished requesting the action. She watches curiously as Astrid sets up the final piece of a high bar, straight branch tucked into the forks of two others. Using some rope Astrid ties it all together and loses her audience back to the far more interesting burrows. _Fair,_ Astrid thinks, and goes to the stream to fill her pot with water before hanging it on the high bar. She places the remaining cured yak steaks inside to boil out some of the salt.

 

She doesn’t need to watch the yak steaks boil, but the dance of the flames captures her attention. It feels alive in a way, flickering back and forth, reacting the surroundings like almost seems like an animal, darting around. It can’t be true, Astrid knows, it’s just the wind and the movement until the timber, consuming the logs and when a bit of water spits out the top of the pot. Still, Astrid watches and watches and tries not to think about thrusting her hand into the space to see if she was making the whole not getting burnt thing up.

 

The sun is starting to dip down into the sky when Astrid tips out the salty water from the steaks and fills the pot back up with fresh water. She’s succeeded at not testing the heat of the fire, and layers in the last of their rabbit from lunch and several root vegetables Fishlegs has brought back for her. She watches the sun disappear behind the hill their camp is protected by and calls Stormfly closer so she feels safer in this space. It doesn’t take long for the others to come back once twilight hits, called in by the warm and the food and the light.

 

“Bon appétit,” Tuff says when he gets his bowlful of stew and no one has no idea what he means.

“Bon appétit,” Ruff replies, holding her bowl up like she’s toasting with it and the both of them wince at their first bite. It’s a bit salty still, and there’s not a huge amount of flavour aside from the starchiness of the root vegetables and some meatiness but Astrid’s no chef. She’s only a passable cook. No one is spitting it out so it’s a win in Astrid’s book.

 

They spend the evening sharing stories of what they’ve found thus far on their new island. Fishlegs speaks of microflora under the base of specific trees, tiny little flowers he doesn’t know and fungus that looks similar to edible ones back on Berk. Hiccup isn’t keen on the idea of testing out unknown mushrooms, even if Ruff suggests Tuff could and he’s up for it, so they decide to pick some and bring them home for further inspect and safe testing. Astrid suggests that everyone’s so interested in the mushrooms because they want to add them to her stew. There’s denial, but it’s cheekily performative and she laughs at all of them.

 

“I’ll take first watch,” she offers, partly jokingly, “that way none of you have to deal with my cooking in the morning.”

“Bags not cooking,” Ruff says immediately, “me and Tuff have gotta stargaze properly tonight for our travel guide. It’s gonna rain tomorrow afternoon and we won’t get a proper look at the heavens for another three or four days.”

“You have got to be making that up.” Snotlout says in disbelief but agrees to fully cook breakfast the next morning. Fishlegs gets tomorrow’s lunch, and Hiccup the next dinner.

 

The three of them settle down, pulling out furs and curling up next to their dragons. Ruff, Tuff and Barf and Belch make their way slowly up the hillside, a small lantern in Ruff’s hands to guide the way. They promise to be back down before Astrid’s shift is over but she doesn’t mind, and only half believes them. She still feels wired, too awake, and all dinner having Tuff directly across the fire, half lost behind smoke had kept her heart beating too fast. She watches the fire crackle and burn, getting up twice to put another log on before sinking back into Stormfly’s snoozing form.

 

The twins slink back down to the fire definitely way after their shift has begun but Astrid doesn’t mind, not even bothering to chastise them. Barf and Belch settle straight into a tight curl, heads down and little dragon snores echoing from them soon after. They’re as quiet as two blind gronckles, but everyone seems too tired to notice.

 

“I’m happy to take your shifts,” Astrid calls out keeping her voice quiet anyway. It’s almost already half over, and feels like she could be awake for hours yet.

“Oh,” Tuff says. Astrid can just barely see him across the fire but he looks confused. He opens his mouth but Ruff slaps her hand over it so suddenly it has an audible sound before he can say whatever he was going to.

“Thanks Astrid!” She chirps, too loud in the quiet of the night and it disturbs something over by the edge of the forest. It scuttles off, leaves crunching underfoot. Astrid would put money on it being whatever made the burrows Stormfly had been investigating earlier.

 

Ruff curls up to go to sleep straight away, head down and wrapped up her in furs. Astrid admires her tenacity and the way she commits to things. She thinks maybe Ruff doesn’t know how much Astrid truly admires her and tries to think of a way to say that without Ruff thinking it’s a joke or that Astrid’s being sarcastic. It’s a bit too much that perhaps Ruff won’t take her genuine words how they’re meant.

 

“I’m not really tired,” Tuff says, voice small. He’s looking into the low flames, not at Astrid, and his entire posture gives away what he’s bursting to say.

“You put your hand in the fire with no consequences.” Astrid replies, voice soft too. “You knew you were going to be okay, you just forgot to be careful. When I put my hand in too, that was fine as well. Did you do something? Did you _save_ me?”

“I don’t think so,” Tuff shrugs, looking up and meeting his eyes throw the glow of the fire sets Astrid’s heart beating double time.

 

A puff of smoke obscures Tuff for a moment, but Astrid can hear him shifting and when she can see again he’s got both hands resting on a log. It’s smouldering, flames licking up the side and over the fingers of one of his hands. Astrid wants to join him, to touch his hand and she finds herself moving, reaching out.

 

“Odin,” she whispers, stretching her fingers through the closest flame to her and when it just feels like the puff of a warm breath she sticks her hand right in. She shakes, looking over a Tuff again and he looks as wild and confused and elated as she feels. He looks like maybe he belongs there, on his knees in front of Astrid, elbow deep in oranges and yellows. And she thinks, _oh Odin, is this what it is to be holy?_ She thinks maybe it is.

“Your clothes will burn,” Tuff warns, voice soft still and shaky, but he’s smiling, warm and flickering like the fire under Astrid’s hand.

 

“If I walk through this fire will I be okay? Even if my clothes burn? Will they just burn away?” Astrid asks and he’s nodding before she even finishes the first sentence. She believes him, by all the gods, she _believes_ him.

 

“You’re like me,” Tuff breathes, still nodding, hands shaking again, “you are like _me._ ”

“What are we?” Astrid asks. Tuff doesn’t provide an answer, and really Astrid wasn’t expecting one. She nods, understanding. Whatever it is, it’s incomprehensible, it’s bigger than words alone, it’s unspoken. Astrid wants to cross the fire and lean into Tuff’s space to kiss him, to hold his face and kiss the holiness out of his mouth.

 

She doesn’t, not yet.

 

She thinks about tomorrow night, sitting across the fire from him again and their secret burning deep inside her stomach. It makes her bubble with anticipation, tingling right down to the ends of her fingers and toes. She leans back, patting down a spot on her tunic that a piece of ash has landed on and was burning a hole through.

 

“Is Ruff like this too?” She looks over at the lump of furs indicating where Ruff is lying.

“No, but have you ever seen anyone so good at apple bobbing?” Tuff says, the conspiracy thick in his voice. He grins, proud. “Anyone so good at finding limpets and mussels in the rock pools? Anyone so fantastic at training water dragons?”

“No.” Astrid says, “no one’s anything like your sister.”

 

“No, of course not.” Tuff smiles again, movements slower than before, sleepy and heavy. Astrid feels the warmth inside her chest settle into a fondness she’s getting more and more familiar with.

“Go to sleep Tuff,” She says, a moment later. She steps around the fire, touching the bare skin of his arm just above where the fire reaches. He lets her direct him towards his sister to steal his own furs back. “I’ll take your shift too, don’t worry.”

“Thanks A,” Tuff says and he looks like he wants to say more, perhaps ramble on until he does fall asleep. She shushes him, stroking fire warm skin and hair out of his face. She thinks about pressing her mouth to his cheek to see if it feels the same heat that way.

 

Instead, she settles back into Stormfly’s side, focusing on the deep breaths she can feel. The fire crackles and jumps, and it’s never been so comforting before. Soon, it’s time for Astrid to wake Fishlegs for his turn at guard duty. He seems unbothered it’s Astrid waking him and not one of the twins and Astrid doesn’t let it bother her either. She curls a tad too close to the fire and lets its heat comfort her into a deep sleep, dreaming of dancing skyclad in the hearth of her family home.

 

When she’s woken, it’s to a day already begun, parcels of fish and toasted nuts warmed on the edge of the fire pit. The gang’s already mostly gone, just Snotlout sitting right by the edge. He pokes one of the boundary rocks with a toe, tapping out an odd pattern.

 

“You shouldn’t let the twins slack off,” he says when he realises Astrid’s awake. She startles into laughter, slapping her hand down on the bare ground loud enough to scare the both of them.

“You think _I_ let the twins slack off?” She asks, and Snotlout sends her a startled confused look. She can see the doubt in the lines of his face, between his pulled together brows.

“They didn’t do a guard shift.” He offers, half a shrug in one shoulder and he tries to compute the information. Astrid throws him a bone.

“What do you think they were doing up on the ridge?” She points upwards to where the twins had star gazed last night. It over looks the entire valley, it overlooks the sea.

 

“You never let me slack off,” Snotlout says, looking up at the ridge with a critical eye.

“I don’t let anyone do that.” Astrid replies. Perhaps, he won’t see that, she knows everyone looks at her and sees a drill sergeant, someone who doesn’t know how to have fun. She’s trying, by the gods, she’s trying. She’s just, expanding her idea of what constitutes as not slacking off. “Sometimes things seem like slacking but they aren’t, it doesn’t mean we should all just lay about doing nothing.”

 

“Like what you’re doing now Hofferson?” Snotlout replies, a dramatic flair to his words and the flick of his hand as he steals some of her nuts. Astrid isn’t quick enough to slap him, but she gathers them all close, ready to shove them in her face like a chipmunk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Jorgenson,” Astrid sniffs, equally dramatic in tone. They hold the silly serious expressions for a minute before Snotlout starts snorting with laughter.

 

“Still,” Snotlout looks at her a moment later, calmed down a little, “I think you have a clear favourite.”

 

Astrid doesn’t say anything. She might.

 

She finishes her breakfast on her own, sending Snotlout away to slack off the entire day or something. It’s peaceful, the low sound of gulls wheeling about in the sky behind her, the shake of the forest in front. Even from a glance, and with Astrid’s limited knowledge of botany, this place is a goldmine of new and exciting things. She lets the gang’s excitement wash over her, feeding Stormfly parcels of fish. She’s going to survey the technical aspects of the island, and something about that sits happy inside of her, curling up in the pit of her stomach as warm as fire.

 

Stormfly chirps and nuzzles along Astrid’s side when she says they’re going for a flight, nipping at her fingers. Astrid brushes her hands over her scales, marveling at the blue, at the muscle under hands and thinks how _lucky_ she is. Days away from home, endless freedom in the wind with her friends and a fire at night to sit around. She settles Stormfly’s saddle on, doing up the buckles and swings up in place, Stormfly taking off before even Astrid is settled. They lap the island, once to see the general layout again and then a second and third time just because they can, just to see how fast they can do it. High in the sky the land unfolds in front of them, sharp cliffs and rolling hills, forest and grasslands. Astrid feels peaceful, she feels effervescence like staring at Tuff across the fire felt. She taps at Stormfly’s neck and lets her pick the next place they land.

 

“It’s probably time for a rest,” Astrid says after the fifth spot, stroking Stormfly’s neck. They’ve found enough defensive positions to stop an armada if need be, and Astrid feels settled as she takes in the view. This is likely the second highest position on the island itself, and from it she can see the entire eastern valley. Stormfly stretches as Astrid surveys, eyes following the movements of something low in the bushes. A moment later she’s off, chasing whatever it is through the brush, and Astrid smiles, turning towards a cluttered but fairly obvious path.

 

It takes a rough few minutes of climbing but it opens out to an escarpment overlooking the western bay and the view is breathtaking. The water is calm, enough to see the edge of a shellfish reef halfway out, and treacherous rocks that would make landing on the beach extremely dangerous. It’s sheltered, half in shadow as the sun is only just making its way over the mountain and there are birds absolutely everywhere. From this high up Astrid can’t pick them, the sand heaving with little fluffy shorebird chicks and the air full of bird noise. She steps closer to the edge, placing her feet carefully and holds herself like she’s braced over Stormfly as the wind buffets her.

 

Moments and moments later, perhaps five minutes, perhaps more, there’s a crack of a branch and Astrid whips around, hands defensive. She takes a step back, and then throws her hands out to balance herself when she realises it’s only Hiccup and, well, she’s far too close to the edge now. Attention back on the ground she nods at Hiccup and settles herself back where she was standing before. Hiccup joins her, looking down over the spectacle of nature in front of them.

 

“Astrid?” Hiccup asks, his voice nervous and shallow and almost lost on the wind. Astrid tilts her head but doesn’t turn, encouraging him to go on without turning and getting a mouthful of hair. He doesn’t take the opportunity, missing her meaning or choked up with his nervousness.

“Yes Hiccup?” She prods, curving her shoulder towards him somewhat so she can see his downcast eyes.

“I just, I was wondering if I could court you?”

 

“I thought you were courting Fishlegs.” Astrid replies. She turns back to the view of the beach.

 

“I - what?” Hiccup splutters and Astrid doesn’t need to see him to know he’s red all the way up to his ears. He wants to avoid it, to pretend, to ramble until Astrid’s distracted but it didn’t work when he was hiding Toothless all those years ago and it won’t work now. Instead, he says “Fishlegs is a _boy.”_

“I noticed.” Astrid replies evenly.

“And you know, everyone thinks us,” he pauses, and Astrid allows him an audience to his wild gesticulating between the two of them, “is going to happen. That we are a thing.”

“Since when have you done anything anyone expected of you?” Astrid asks. And since when has she done anything but exactly what’s expected of her?

 

They’re silent for several long moments, the only sound is of the wind whistling past them. Astrid can hear Hiccup’s breaths too, deep exhales like he’s trying not to hyperventilate.

 

“You’re right,” Hiccup says. Astrid knows. She turns and gets the face full of hair she didn’t want to in the first place, reaching up to hold it out of her eyes. “You’re right, I don’t do what’s expected of me. I - I rode a dragon.”

“I’m going to mark it on a calendar - the day Hiccup admitted I was right about something.” She teases, only letting herself fall into a grin when Hiccup laughs alongside her.

 

They walk back down the path to where their dragons are playing, sheltered from the wind. Astrid thinks about the heat in her hands, thinks about Tuff watching her across the fire and the way Hiccup seems the most at home with the air barrelling past, tendrils curling in his hair and tugging at his clothes.

 

“You didn’t just ride a dragon,” Astrid says, “you _wouldn’t_ kill a dragon. You changed our world, you challenged all of us to be better, to be better versions of ourselves. You’re very important, you know?”

“I did the right thing because you asked it of me,” Hiccup replies, words soft and like he’s not sure what he’s saying. “I would have run. But you asked me to be brave, so I was. So all of you were. You’re very important too.”

 

Astrid feels choked, face hot. How lovely, how _embarrassing._ She remembers pressing her face to his back, hands around his skinny waist. She remembers looking up to the sky, nose cool and eyes wide. She had kissed his cheek, adrenaline buzzing in her veins like she’d run several miles, like she was standing on a cliff edge.

 

“Thank you,” she says, stepping over to pat Stormfly, running her hands over Stormfly’s flank. “I am glad we’re friends.”

“Me too,” Hiccup smiles. He looks at Toothless, happily reaching out for him when Toothless bounds over.

“It’s my duty as your friend to tease you _endlessly_ about your crushes.” Astrid’s never done that before, but she’s excited, breathless like the wind’s stolen it.

“Oh,” Hiccup puts his hands up, backing away and only shifts to properly mount Toothless, both of them readying themselves for escape, “absolutely _not.”_

 

“You had one on me, how embarrassing!” Astrid yells at their retreating form.

 

She doesn’t chase them down, watching Toothless streak away until only the idea of him ever being there is left, like a sunspot when you blink. Stormfly doesn’t seem particularly bothered either, sun warm and lazy under Astrid’s hands. Astrid wonders how many little creatures she snuffled out whilst Astrid was gone. Enough she probably doesn’t need dinner.

 

“What do you think about that girl?” She asks, stroking Stormfly’s neck and under her chin and over her crest. “Hiccup had a crush on me. Probably just because I believed in him, because I was nice _once_ . How many times was I mean, how many dismissive? Do you remember, in the arena, and I saved him from you?” Stormfly cocks her head, and Astrid thinks she doesn’t want Stormfly to remember anyway. The arena back on Berk is nice enough now; stables and a training area but their dragons were hurt there. Astrid _fought_ Stormfly there. They should remember it for the happy times now. “I said he was never in the right place, but maybe I was wrong, in one way. His heart was.”

 

Stormfly preens under the attention and Astrid thinks about the bravery it took for her dragon to love her, to forgive her. Astrid thinks about Stormfly’s magnesium heat, and her hand in the fire last night, and curls her arms around Stormfly’s neck.

 

“I love you girl,” she says. She knows Stormfly understands this.

 

Later that evening when they arrive back to camp, Hiccup looks up from the stew he’s cooking to shoot Astrid an absolutely enormous smile. She pauses, looking at him curiously but his attention is back on the stew. When Astrid looks up Snotlout is looking at her funnily. She shrugs, glancing past him to look for something to do and feeling a little out of her depth when there isn’t anything that needs attending. She’s about to suggest she’s going to get some more wood - although their stockpile is more than big enough - when Fishlegs and Meatlug arrive, a pannier full of plant specimens.

 

“I think this is a herb,” Fishlegs announces, no preamble. “It reminds me of this one that Trader Johann had once or twice. Very rare. Could be good to flavour the food.”

“I am _not_ being your guinea pig.” Snotlout states. He crosses his arms, and doesn’t look a little bit intimidating at all.

“Let’s try it,” Hiccup looks over at Fishlegs, giant smile still on his face, but softer and _oh._ It was only a little push. Astrid smothers a smile, watching as the two of them inspect the herb.

 

“Nerds,” Snotlout shakes his head. Astrid is inclined to agree.

“Speaking of nerds, where are the twins?” She turns away, looking out into the forest. Barf and Belch is napping next to Hookfang, so they’re probably around somewhere.

“They went to “inspect the stream” or something,” Snotlout shrugs. He uses finger quotes around ‘inspect the stream’ like it’s code for something. Astrid has no idea what it could be code for. They probably _are_ inspecting the stream.

“I’ll get them to wash their hands.” She offers, glad of something to do and steps off to let Fishlegs and Hiccup to have their moment, Snotlout an awkward third wheel.

 

The twins are inspecting the stream. Ruff is kneeling deep in the middle, bending over and clearly had her face in the water a moment ago. She startles, landing on her butt with a splash. Tuff nearly drops their field guide in the water, just managing to catch it.

 

“What are you doing here?” Ruff asks, sharp. There’s something brittle and mean in the line of her shoulders.

“I was coming to see what you two were doing,” Astrid offers. “Snotlout made it sound like you two were smoking dragon nip or something.” Ruff looks like she’s going to snap back, shoulders taut.

 

“It’s okay,” Tuff breathes, “she knows. She’s like me.”

 

Astrid doesn’t think that’s Ruff problem with her at all. One day, they will have the discussion they need to. One day, Ruff is going to yell and scream and say all the mean things Astrid knows is bottled up inside her and she’ll be right. Astrid will listen, even when it hurts, even when she wants to yell things back. She thinks, _whatever it is, it’s not my fault_ , but that doesn’t matter. One day, they’re going to be friends like how Astrid is learning with everyone else.   

 

“I know you’re both remarkable.” Astrid agrees. Ruff sniffs, but her posture relaxes

“Of course we are.” She says, standing up. She shakes, not unlike Silent Sven’s sheep dog, and the water seemingly evaporates. Completely dry except for her shoes.

“I’ve never smoked dragon nip.” Tuff adds. He looks up earnestly at Astrid and she believes him. Ruff doesn’t add anything, and Astrid knows the girl has. She offers a wry smile, after all Astrid has too, she’s not sure will go down well. It’s mostly ignored.

 

“How did you not know?” Ruff asks, stepping out of the stream. Tuff sticks his hand out and Ruff grabs it, pulling him up. He’s all scruffy, like he’s been dragged backwards through the undergrowth and in contrast Ruff looks put together, picture perfect. Looking at them, she believes even without her proof they are holy, they are something more.

“I don’t - when would I have had an opportunity to test out I’m fire resistant?” Astrid asks, looking between the two of them. “My mama told me not to touch the fire because it hurts people -  we saw it hurt people all the time, people got burns from dragon attacks? People still get dragon fire burns. - and so I didn’t. I didn’t want to be hurt.”

“You never questioned it?” Ruff’s eyes soften for a moment and it’s almost disconcerting. She looks at Tuff and Astrid can imagine him, all of four, missing a tooth or two and sticking his hand right in the fire place after being told not to. Astrid knows the rules of the world because she was taught them, but no, she didn’t question them, get her own proof.

 

 _I’m not you,_ she wants to say, _please teach me how to be more like you. I want to be fearless about myself._

 

“Well,” she says instead, voice thick, “dinner should be ready soon. We should wash up.”

“Sure,” Ruff replies and holds her hands out. Tuff follows suit and they stand there until Astrid joins them. Ruff flicks her hands again, and water condenses around their hands from the air. A moment later the twins are both shaking off their hands, water droplets sprinkling on the ground. Astrid copies the motion, wowed at the casual display of powers. She wonders what it’s like all the time with the both of them free to not worry about their actions. Ruff starts walking ahead, calling back “let’s have dinner then.”

 

“Astrid,” Tuff says, reaching out for her hand, “the others don’t know either. Sometimes people have to grow before they burn. You use aged wood unless you want a faceful of smoke.”

“Are you scared of someone?” Astrid asks, squeezing Tuff’s hand. She thinks of the two or so times she’s ever seen the twin’s dad, lazing about inside their house in front of the fire and his mean expression. She thinks about them hiding, when Hiccup ran away into the clouds and rode a dragon. Of the others don’t know either.

“Are you?” He smiles, crooked. Yes, by the gods, she’s scared of so many things, and not the least of people’s expectations. Of being a disappointment, of not carrying on the family’s name, of everyone seeing the bastard Hofferson not being perfect. Of herself, for always being what’s expected of her instead of what she _is_.

 

Astrid touches his chin. He feels burning hot under her fingertips, like he’s made of fire himself. She feels like maybe she is too, and her flames leap for joy at being so close, like the fire wants to meld together.

 

“When we were eight, and you saved those kittens,” she starts, not quite knowing where she’s going.

“You helped,” Tuff interjects, insistent and Astrid’s heart absolutely thunders in her chest.

“When _we_ saved those kittens, and helped stop that dragon,” she corrects, “and you hugged me for saving the kitten. And then you gave me the kitten.”

 

“Yeah,” he says, encouraging when Astrid doesn’t continue. She just, doesn’t know how to express what she’s feeling or why that moment is important. She remembers the fear, and his grimy determined face and them working together to pour soda ash over the dragon. Baptism by fire, she thinks. Her eight year old heart had spluttered when he had hugged her, much like it is now.

“My mama said you had the biggest heart in the world, thinking of me like that,” she blinks, tears choking up her throat all of sudden. She thinks about how she looked to her mama, spiky clothes and not talking to her friends.  She looks at Tuff, really _looks_ at him, no smoke in the way, no grime on his cheeks, not moving away from the twin points of her fingers on his face. “I think she knew, even then.”

 

“Knew what?” Tuff blinks, face turned up and Astrid kisses him. It’s only a brief press of lips, a second or two at most. Even in that time, Tuff had closed his eyes, eyelashes fluttering as he opens them again, looking up at her, lips parting.

“Everything,” Astrid says. Tuff lifts his free hand to his mouth and touches his bottom lip like he can’t believe what happened. Maybe whatever Astrid’s feeling is all over her face because he looks at her, and she feels bare under his gaze until he throws his arms around her neck and pulls her into another kiss.

 

Astrid gets lost in the warmth of his mouth, in the heat of his elbow hooked around her neck, his front pressed up against her. She can feel the beat of his heart under her palm, thumb tucked under his ear. Everything feels honey slow, fire warm. Astrid wants to kiss him forever, wants to burn like this forever.

 

“Hey,” Snotlout calls, sounding not too far off. “Where are you guys? It’s dinner time!”

 

They break apart, breathing hard and Astrid can’t help the little laugh that falls out of her mouth. Tuff frowns a moment and she tips forwards pressing their foreheads together. He grins too, lopsided and too much for Astrid to deal with. She drops another kiss on his mouth, lingering.

 

“We’re just rescuing a toad Jorgenson,” Astrid calls, breathless and smiling, “stop getting your knickers in a twist.”

“A toad!” Snotlout yells. She can imagine him with his arms crossed in front of his chest, indignant.  “Hoffersons! Ridiculous! I’m going to eat your portion of the stew.”

“We actually have to catch a toad now,” Tuff says, but he only looks happy at the prospect. That’s why Astrid said it.

 

They catch a toad, or rather Tuff does, and he looks very pleased with himself when they sit down, opposite sides of the fire. Snotlout hasn’t eaten anyone’s portion of the stew but his own and surprisingly (or, not) Fishlegs’ mystery herb is delicious. No one drops dead after the first helping so Snotlout does go in for seconds. Every time Astrid looks up Tuff’s looking at her through the flames, and she burns with excitement, with the secret settling down in her bones.

 

“Uh, gang.” Hiccup says, tone nervous like when he’d confronted her earlier that day. Astrid drags her eyes away from Tuff and his toad and gives Hiccup her full attention. He looks around, bold for a moment and then chickens out. “I think we could benefit for another day here and then it’s probably time to head back to Berk. We need to drop off and catalogue specimens, and more general supplies. Plus, it’ll be nice to see our families.”

“Sounds good,” Astrid offers, before anyone can complain. Fishlegs touches Hiccup’s arm, gentle and comforting, and Astrid knows there’s something more.

 

He doesn’t add anything more. But it’s okay, they have forever to live this life, to share these secrets.

 

“Well, my bed _is_ missing me.” Snotlout says. Ruff snorts, elbowing him if the squawk is anything to go by.

“Your bed has feelings?” Tuff asks, looking wide eyed over at Snotlout, distracted from his food and his toad. Snotlout slaps a hand against his forehead, mumbling under his breath.

  
Astrid looks at them, across the flames, and at Fishlegs and Hiccup next to her, sitting so close, closer than before. She thinks of tomorrow, another day of exploring, and of tomorrow night by the fire with her friends. She thinks of heading home and seeing her mama, and of the person she be will tomorrow and the day after and who she’s going to become. When she glances over, Tuff’s looking again and she mouths _you’re nice to look at too._

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes:  
> 1\. The eight year old kitten rescuing scene is from [To Ashes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15035207) by dendraica. It's also based off one of my fics. It's a personal headcanon about the gang. You should definitely read, it's so so good. Read everything by dendraica.  
> 2\. To everyone on twitter who I owe twenty tuffstrid dollars to, here's some of my payment.  
> 3\. Congratulations to the [AO3 team, and everyone who's posted a fic on AO3 for their Hugo Award Nomination](https://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/12419). No, I will not shut up about this. Mum, I've got a Hugo Nomination.


End file.
